Exquisite Captive by Heather Demetrios
But I’m free, she thought now, watching Malek prepare the plane. Never again would she feel the twitch in her stomach from his summons or fear a bottle around his neck.
Raif stole up behind Nalia and pulled her against him, his palm against her stomach, an arm across her chest.
“Miss me?” he asked.
Relief flooded through her and she set her hands over his. “Yes. I was worried.”
Malek glanced at them. He pursed his lips and turned his attention back to the pilot when she noticed him.
“I took care of it,” Raif murmured. “Jordif can’t hurt you or anyone else again.”
Nalia turned around. “What did you do?”
“Ordered his execution. He’s on the run, but I have every tavrai on Earth looking for him.” He set his hands on her waist and pulled her closer. “Do you want to be there when it happens?”
Nalia shook her head. “No. I’ve seen enough death for a lifetime.”
The sigh Nalia had been holding in for hours escaped her. Her eyes burned from exhaustion, and every muscle ached from the unbinding. But that was nothing compared to the overwhelming disappointment of what had happened in the canyon.
“I can’t believe I’m not rid of Malek,” she said. It had been bad enough when Raif was going to possess the sigil. She’d learned to trust him and believed he would try to do the right thing by the jinn race. But Malek with the sigil? The end of the worlds.
“You’re rid of him in the way that really matters,” Raif said, his lips against her hair. “He can never hurt you again.”
You don’t know him, she thought. Not like I do.
Nalia leaned into his touch. “While you were gone, I figured out why the Ghan Aisouri were never able to create an unbinding spell,” she said.
“Yeah?”
She nodded. “We didn’t know what slavery felt like, so we didn’t understand the real essence of freedom.” She looked up at Raif and rested her palms against his cheeks. “You manifested freedom—and you were able to because you knew what the bind felt like, the unnaturalness of it. I’ve never seen magic so powerful. It wasn’t just about understanding the spell. It was your power that did it. Raif, the things you could do . . .”
“You set yourself free,” he said. “When you were in that bottle, alone, you figured out how to manifest freedom, too.” Raif smiled. “But if you have a few tricks you can show me, I’ll gladly use them.”
“I’ll teach you everything I know, I promise.”
His lips brushed hers. “Ah, but you’ll expect payment—I’m not sure I can afford Ghan Aisouri prices.”
“I’m sure we can figure something out.” She started to grin, but her face clouded as a long-forgotten memory hit her.
“Nalia-jai, show me how to make a wind dragon!”
“And what will I get in return, gharoof?” Her little rabbit, always scheming.
Bashil runs to her and plants a kiss on Nalia’s cheek. They tumble to the grass, laughing.
“What’s wrong?” Raif asked, his voice soft.
“Just . . . my brother.”
“No news?”
Nalia shook her head. “Nothing.”
The last she’d seen of Bashil was when he’d been hit on the head by an Ifrit guard. Was he even still alive? Nalia couldn’t get through to him and Bashil hadn’t tried to contact her since the night she’d killed Haran.
“He might just be sick,” Raif said. “You know how hard it is to use hahm’alah when your body’s unwell. We’ll be home soon.”
But they wouldn’t. Nalia had no idea how long they would have to travel through the Sahara to reach the cave where the sigil was hidden. Since they couldn’t evanesce, it could be weeks or months before she stepped on Arjinnan soil—if she made it through the cave. Only one jinni had survived the journey through its cavernous depths, and her tales had been full of creatures that made Haran seem tame.
She glanced at the runway. “At the rate things are going, we’ll be lucky to get out of the city before the Ifrit find us.”
Raif held her a little tighter. “After losing my dad and best friend, I don’t know what I would do if something happened to you or Zan. You know, my dad dying . . . I think I kind of knew it was going to happen. There was this moment, the night before the second uprising . . . so when it happened, I was ready. In a way. But when Kir died—”
Nalia froze. “Kir?”
Raif nodded. “My best friend. When he died, I couldn’t believe it. It was a routine mission, it should’ve been . . .” Raif cleared his throat. “They took him—the Aisouri. He was strong, but they broke him in the end. We tried a rescue, but it happened so fast, there wasn’t any time.”
“Mother, please don’t make me do this,” Nalia says. The boy’s head bobs against his chest, vomit covering his shirt.
“This is war, Nalia. If we don’t kill him, he’s one more revolutionary who can murder a Ghan Aisouri.” Nalia’s mother pushes her toward him.
“I can’t. He’s so young, Mother, please—”
Mehndal Aisouri’Taifyeh slaps her daughter across the face, hard. “Do not disgrace me, child. Kill the boy, or I swear to the gods you’ll wish you had.”
Nalia could make it quick for him. She couldn’t say the same for her mother.
“What’s his name?” Nalia asks. It seems important, not to kill someone without at least knowing his name.
“Kir. Or so he says.”
Nalia stands over him, her hands shaking. “Shalinta, Kir. Shalinta.” Forgive me.
Zanari leaned out of the plane’s door. “Raif.” She motioned for her brother to join her, and he nodded. She looked at Nalia. “Tell Malek the Ifrit are at his house—they have your scent.”
“I’m right here,” Malek snapped.
Zanari ignored him—it was her policy, after what he’d done to her. She couldn’t hurt him because of Draega’s Amulet, so she’d discovered new and varied ways of torturing him.
“I’ll save you a seat,” Raif said to Nalia. He looked down, his brow creasing. “Hey, it’s gonna be fine.”
She couldn’t look at him. “I . . . know. I know.”
He squeezed her hand, then jogged toward the plane.
His best friend. Oh, gods, his best friend.
Nalia stood on the runway, alone, that little bit of security and happiness she’d felt vanishing like evanescence.
Malek leaned close to the pilot and gestured to the plane. The pilot followed Raif up the stairs and disappeared inside. Malek took off his sunglasses and caught Nalia’s eye. His lips turned up in a small, knowing smile, and before she could respond, he ducked inside the plane. Moments later, the engines rumbled, and the crew standing beneath the Gulfstream began running around it, taking away wheel guards as the gas truck pulled away.
Nalia rubbed her wrists, the familiar gesture reminding her that the shackles were gone. Raif’s words echoed in her ears: He can never hurt you again. All that remained of her slavery were two thin scars. But there was still the half-Ifrit man in the plane who always got what he wanted. And there was this new knowledge, looming over everything.
Kir, she thought. Kir, Kir, Kir.
Raif would never forgive her, and yet she had to tell him. How could she accept his love when she knew she’d killed his best friend? She couldn’t.
Malek leaned out of the Gulfstream’s door. “Nalia, any day now,” he shouted over the roar of the engine.
She glared at him, and he gave her a mock bow as he went back inside. Nalia closed her eyes and whispered a brief prayer to the gods, pouring out her fear and gratitude, her hopes and desires, at their feet. She had assassins after her and Bashil seemed farther away than ever. Leilan was dead, Malek was still in her life, and Raif might soon be out of it, once he learned the truth about Nalia’s past.
But at least I’m free.
The last Ghan Aisouri, rightful heir to the Arjinnan throne, crossed the tarmac and set her hand on the tiny stairway’s railing. She took one
She’d pay any price for that.
Acknowledgments
A lot of people went into making Exquisite Captive a reality, and I’m absolutely humbled that they’ve all treated my words with such tender loving care. First, thank you a million times over to my agent, Brenda Bowen: I couldn’t have wished for a better partner in crime. Your enthusiasm for this story and support of my work in general is a blessing. Huge thanks to my editor, Donna Bray, for her boundless excitement and incredible insight. This book is so much better because of you. Every day, I’m floored by how much goes into making a book a book. I am grateful to count myself among the few who are lucky enough to have a publisher that’s looking for the gods and devils in all the details. It’s a thrill to work with the fantastic team at Balzer + Bray and to be part of the HarperCollins family. Extra special thanks to Alessandra Balzer for supporting the book, and to the design, sales, and marketing jinn who manifest the stuff of dreams. Extra hugs for Alison Donalty and Andre Schneider for manifesting such a gorgeous cover, and Viana Siniscalchi. There are too many people to name here, but I am indebted to everyone who has put their smarts, creative energy, and love into this book. I’d grant each of you a wish if I could, promise.
There are a number of people who aided and abetted me while Nalia’s story was just beginning. First, a big hug to Anna Staniszewski for giving me the writing prompt that would change my life, and all the early readers who told me that a story about a jinni was a good idea. Thanks to Coe Booth, for early enthusiasm, guidance, and a helpful barrage of logic questions (and for telling me revenge was a terrible motivation). I also have Bashil to thank you for. Amanda Jenkins, for reminding me that my characters are in charge, not me. The students and faculty of Vermont College of Fine Arts, for making me a better writer and giving me a home away from home. And to my Allies—I wish I could open up Malek’s garage and give each of you a pretty car. Thank you for being my second family. Big thanks to Kathryn Gaglione for plot doctoring, hilarious track changes, and regular cheerleading. Leslie Caulfield, for beta awesomeness and always being an email away, and Shari Becker and Jennifer Ann Mann, for pushing me on from the beginning. Kate Weise, for believing this was going to be a good story way back when and for sharing her depth of knowledge about trafficking. Wendy Watson, for telling me about the work she’s done with trafficked women in Los Angeles—who knew those conversations would end up with a jinni in a bottle? Big thanks to all my Arabic-speaking friends and family who helped out with my favorite word in the book. To fab beta readers Jamie Christensen, Elena McVicar, Sarah Roberts, and Megan Gallagher: xoxo. Thank you to my Blogger Caravan, for being the kind of bloggers I’d use one of my three wishes on, and to Amber, Empress of Swag. Thanks, of course, to all my family and friends for their willingness to put up with my weird writerly ways and for being a constant source of support. Zach, my very own rohifsa: a million kisses for being such a kickass husband. I choose you, every time (TS&TM&EO). And, finally, thank you, fabulous reader of YA fantasy. It is an absolute pleasure and privilege to craft stories for people to read, and I hope that you and my words meet again soon.
Although this is, of course, a work of fiction, I was partly inspired by the plight of the millions of men, women, and children who are currently on the real dark caravan. They are victims of human trafficking and, unlike Nalia, they don’t have magical powers or sexy masters who lavish them with luxury gifts. Please check out my website, www.heatherdemetrios.com/books/exquisite_captive/trafficking, for more info on my partnership with Nomi Network, the modern slave trade, and how you can help break their bonds.
Special Thanks to the Blogger Caravan
[Fikt]shun
Alexa Loves Books
Hello, Chelly
The Book Rat
Great Imaginations
Adventures of a Book Junkie
The Best Books Ever
Michelle and Leslie’s Book Picks
Book Chic Club
Bewitched Bookworms
Queen Ella Bee Reads
My Bookworm Blog
Falling for YA
That Artsy Reader Girl
The Quirky Reader
The NerdHerd Reads
A Glass of Wine
Supernatural Snark
RealityLapse
Lili’s Reflections
The Unofficial Addiction Book Fan Club
A Reading Nurse
Safari Poet
What Sarah Read
About the Author
When HEATHER DEMETRIOS isn’t traipsing around the world or spending time in imaginary places, she lives with her husband in New York City. Originally from Los Angeles, she now calls the East Coast home. Heather received her MFA in writing for children and young adults from Vermont College of Fine Arts and is a recipient of the PEN New England Susan P. Bloom Discovery Award for her debut young adult novel, Something Real. She is the founder of Live Your What, an organization dedicated to fostering passion in people of all ages and creating writing opportunities for youth of limited economic means. You can visit Heather online at www.heatherdemetrios.com.
Visit www.AuthorTracker.com for exclusive information on your favorite HarperCollins authors.
Credits
Cover photography © 2014 by Andre Schneider
Cuff by heartsxcrossing
Cover design by Michelle Taormina
Copyright
Balzer + Bray is an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers.
Exquisite Captive
Copyright © 2014 by Heather Demetrios
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
www.epicreads.com
* * *
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Demetrios, Heather.
Exquisite captive / Heather Demetrios. — First edition.
pages cm
Summary: “Nalia, a gorgeous, fierce eighteen-year-old jinni, is pitted against two magnetic adversaries, both of whom want her—and need her—to make a their wishes come true”— Provided by publisher.
ISBN 978-0-06-231856-5 (hardcover)
EPUB Edition AUGUST 2014 ISBN 9780062318589
[1. Genies—Fiction. 2. Magic—Fiction. 3. Wishes—Fiction. 4. Human trafficking—Fiction.] I. Title.
PZ7.D3923Ex 2014
2013047970
[Fic]—dc23
CIP
AC
* * *
Map art © 2014 by Jordan Saia
14 15 16 17 18 LP/RRDH 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
FIRST EDITION
About the Publisher
Australia
HarperCollins Publishers (Australia) Pty. Ltd.
Level 13, 201 Elizabeth Street
Sydney, NSW 2000, Australia
http://www.harpercollins.com.au
Canada
HarperCollins Canada
2 Bloor Street East - 20th Floor
Toronto, ON, M4W, 1A8, Canada
http://www.harpercollins.ca
New Zealand
HarperCollins Publishers New Zealand
Unit D, 63 Apollo Drive
Rosedale 0632
Auckland, New Zealand
http://www.harpercollins.co.nz
United Kingdom
HarperCollins Publishers Ltd.
London, W6 8JB, UK
http://www.harpercollins.co.uk
United States
HarperCollins Publishers Inc.
195 Broadway
New York, NY 10007
http://www.harpercollins.com
* Because the Ghan Aisouri can draw power from all four elements, they worship every god, though individual Aisouri have their favorites.
Heather Demetrios, Exquisite Captive